Page 80 of His To Erase
Her eyes blaze. She’s glaring down at me, cheeks flushed as sweat glistens at her collarbone. Her mouth moves behind my hand in muffled curses, and probably threats.
She’s begging, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Her muscles twitch, and her thighs are trembling. Her whole body’s begging for release. But I don’t let her come yet. I’m teaching her a lesson.
I ease off just enough to rip a whimper from her throat, and she looks at me with daggers in her eyes.
I hear footsteps seconds before she hears them. Her eyes snap open, panic crashing through her as the sound echoes down the aisle.
I start moving my fingers. Pumping them slowly while using my thumb to rub her swollen clit.
We’re buried deep enough in the shadows that they won’t see us, but she doesn’t know that.
The table creaks as she tenses, her body at war with itself—wanting to come, needing to hide, and helpless to do either.
I press my fingers deeper, adding a third. My mouth covers her nipple again, teeth grazing enough to make her jerk and nearly cry out.
I clamp my hand tighter over her mouth.
Her breath is ragged. Her panic is delicious as adrenaline pours off her in waves, sharp and dizzying and my cock throbs against her thigh like it’s tasting it too.
The footsteps pause and she freezes, whimpering into my palm, eyes pleading with me to stop.
I keep moving my fingers enough to make her twitch. Her eyes lock on mine—wild, and burning with fire and fury.
She wants to come.
She needs to.
I lean up, brushing her ear with my mouth. “You’ll take it,” I whisper, dragging my fingers over that spot that makes her shatter.
“Even if they stop right fucking here. You’re going to fall apart in my lap and pray they don’t hear you. Understand?”
She moans—crushed beneath my palm like she’s choking on need.
The footsteps shift again. Closer this time. She shakes her head, eyes going wide as tears pool in her eyes—not sure if it’s panic or how goddamn close she is.
Probably both.
Good. Let her fall apart afraid. Let her come with someone ten feet away and my hand between her legs, owning every second of it, because this isn’t about sex. It’s about surrender.
And I’m not stopping.
Not when her legs start trembling. Not when her lips part around a desperate whimper. Not even when she grabs at my arm like she might claw herself free just to breathe.
She’s so fucking close.
My hand at her mouth shifts to her throat—just enough to hold her in place and remind her who she belongs to right now.
My other fingers press deeper inside her, curling with lethal precision.
I’m not giving her release, I’m carving it into her. Her back arches and I feel her walls clenching, and her heartbeat slamming against my palm. She’s seconds away from unraveling, so I stop.
She bites her lip to keep from screaming. And then, with a shaky voice. “Please?—”
It's wrecked and strangled and burning with shame. I almost groan from how hard my dick is. I want to feel her wet cunt choking me, but that’s not what this is about.
“Not yet,” I growl, and it nearly breaks her.
